Maybe I am doing an ok job after all….

It happened last Sunday, mid afternoon. I cannot recall the exact time as I think I blacked out momentarily.

I was in my office, playing with my new Mac as Big Bertha passed away on Friday. I was in a pretty good mood, as I was typing away without the spinning wheel of death interrupting me every fifteen seconds. The words were flowing from my brain, down to my fingertips and then straight onto the screen. Mr. Woog was catching up with a mate, Jack was catching up with a mate and only Horatio was home, licking his wounds after getting out for a duck in his cricket match that morning.

“Do you want a bagel?” He called out from the kitchen. CARBS! Could this day get any sweeter? And also, Horatio doing something for someone else? Strange, but appreciated.

But the best was yet to come….

The smell of toasting bread wafted into the office when it happened.

I heard the sound of the dishwasher being opened, and get this…. it started to be unpacked!

I pushed back from my desk and raced into the kitchen to find… Horatio… unpacking… the… DISHWASHER! Unasked! All by himself, he was doing it.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I exclaimed!

Horatio shrugged his shoulders and said it was not a big deal, he was just waiting for the bagel to toast and saw that the dishwasher needed unpacking.

May I approach the bench your honour? Please admit this evidence.

I reached out and hugged him tightly. I thanked him profusely. And then I called Mr. Woog who was eating gelato with a friend in the park which was far from what I thought he would be doing and perhaps is another tale for a different day. 45-year-old mid-life crisis men folk catch up in a Sunday afternoon over a beer, right?

Anyway, I breathlessly told him how Horatio had unpacked the dishwasher using his own initiative and we both congratulated ourselves on this turn of events.

Now, I know that there is a group of you smug parents out there, tut tutting me right now. “He should be doing it anyway. Why are you making such a big del about it? My three-year old changed the flat tyre yesterday.” Yes to all of that but unpacking the dishwasher is my kryptonite and I am forever nagging those with external gonads in this family to unpack it. But for one of my offspring to┬ádo it off his own bat, well that is a big fucking deal to me.

And it was just hours later, as I watched him take out the bins, again not asked, just being adorable, I realised that I was well on my way to claiming my badge of bringing up a decent human being.

Does anyone else understand my glee about these unfolding events?